


Missed Calls

by FrozenSnares



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, F/M, Hangover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenSnares/pseuds/FrozenSnares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rickon wakes late one night to an unknown call, only to respond to a plea for help from his ex-girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon who requested, "i still have your phone number memorized even though i haven’t called you since we split six motnhs ago and somehow i remembered it even though i’ve had like six shots of bourbon and hey, i know you’re pissed that you’re here at this dingy club at 3 in the morning to pick my drunk ass up, but you have to admit that’s pretty impressive"

The groggy, omnipresent haze of sleep is _not_ something that should ever be tainted. Everyone knows this. Beyond that, everyone who has Rickon’s phone number should know better than to call at two in the morning. After all, his temper can get worse than Shaggydog’s this late. Rickon furrows his brow, hoping that the incessant buzzing of his phone will shut off soon. It does, and he’s finally graced with the stillness of night once more. When the sharp buzz of a message hits his ears, Rickon nearly throws a pillow. It’s probably a voicemail, and definitely not worth losing his pillow for.

He almost makes it back to being unconscious, but whoever is calling seems rather insistent. Groaning, Rickon drags himself out of bed, moving as slowly as possible. His feet just hit the floor when the buzzing stops again. If anything, Rickon wants his phone just to put it on silent. Scraping the heels of his hands over his face, he sluggishly crosses his room to retrieve his phone. Pulling out the charger, Rickon goes on autopilot to lower the screen brightness and check his missed calls.

There are three from an unknown number. Rickon smirks in his sleepy haze, proud at having slept through one of the calls. Clearing the notification, he pulls up the voicemail. The automated voice is far too loud for the late of night, and Rickon recoils from the receiver as he blindly lowers the volume. He presses in his PIN without looking down, and rubs at his eyes again, letting his weight fall back onto his bed before holding the phone up to his ear.

“… _leave_ … So I called you, but you’re not here.” A giggle follows this, and Rickon frowns at the ceiling. Whoever on the line is clearly drunk, but he can’t place the voice. Without listening to the remainder of the message, he starts it again.

“It’s Sh’reen, I’m out at Tav’rn and they said I need to go home… ” There’s a small pause. “This’s the only number I ’member, but they keep sayin’ I need to _leave_ … So I called you, but you’re not here.”

Rickon chuckles to himself, wondering how on earth his ex-girlfriend managed to remember his number when she was probably drunk for the first time in her life. He hears her giggle again, waiting for her to finish now.

“Ob’usly you’re not _here_ ,” she slurs. Rickon can hear her moving the receiver further away and closer to her mouth. She breathes out the next phrase in a rush. “’Cause if you were here, I’d be able t’talk’t you.”

The following laughter is clipped off by the automated voice asking if he wants to replay the message. Slumping down, Rickon ends the call. Regardless of how drunk Shireen managed to get, they broke up six months ago, and it wasn’t the nicest of endings. Rickon tosses his phone aside, struggling to get his blankets back so he can sleep through the night. He’s curled up against his pillows when his phone starts vibrating yet again.

With a loud groan, Rickon blindly reaches out for his phone. He swipes at the screen and presses it to his ear. “Shireen?” he mumbles out.

“ _Look_ ,” the responding voice slurs loudly. “He was mad, but he’ll _come_. No, not _you_. Ah! Stop!”

“Shir?” Rickon calls loudly, struggling to raise his voice after waking up.

“Shir?” Shireen repeats into the phone. “Oh, _me_. Sheer, shore, shire, sure… How’d ya say it?”

Rickon sighs. “Shireen,” he starts again.

Shireen hiccoughs into the receiver. Something in the back of Rickon’s mind clicks, and he pulls himself out of bed, struggling to find his jeans.

“ _No_ ,” Shireen says again, and Rickon is certain that she’s talking to someone else. “I told you to stop.”

“I can give you a ride, baby,” another voice said. It’s a distinctly masculine voice, and the clarity of it bothers Rickon more than anything. “Just come on back to my place.”

“Hey!” Rickon shouts into his phone. Across the room, Shaggydog abruptly shakes out of his sleep, looking over to Rickon intently. As much as he wants to soothe his dog back down, he can’t get that slimy voice out of his head. He hears the sound of a struggle as he steps into his shoes, and he starts seeking out his keys.

There’s some muffled sounds when Rickon pulls on his jacket. He freezes just before touching his keys when a sharp, “What do you want?” came from his phone.

Steeling himself, Rickon puts on his most menacing voice. “Listen here, fucker,” he says, swinging his keys into his palm and gesturing for Shaggydog to follow him out the door. “If I get to that fucking payphone and you’re still there, then my fist will make you black and blue before you can think about finding another girl. And if _my girl_ is missing, _I will hunt you down_.”

The man on the phone scoffs, and he hears another feeble cry from Shireen. “Left your girl at a bar… She’s free game, buddy.”

He’s cut off by the loud click of metal on metal. Rickon frowns at the phone, rushing down the stairs with his dog at his heels. “Hey, Shir,” he calls, hoping that it’s loud enough for her to hear, and not loud enough to disrupt all the people in his apartment complex.

“Yeah?” her small voice says back.

“Hey, Shir,” he says, much more calmly. “You stay on that phone, alright? Don’t hang up until I get there, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“They keep telling me to leave,” she mumbles.

“Who’s they?” Rickon asks, opening the door of his car for Shaggydog, who jumps in happily. He’s hoping he can keep her on the phone the entire time. Putting the call on speaker, Rickon starts his car, hoping that the drive isn’t as long as he remembers.

“Some people at this bar,” Shireen says.

There’s a small giggle, and Rickon relaxes even though he hits the gas harder. “Who did you go to the bar with?” Rickon asks.

Her responding mumble is even further away, and Rickon wants to call her back. She may be a full five years older than him, and she may have walked out on him six months ago, but there’s no way that Rickon would ever be able to live with himself if he let anything happen to her. He bangs his head against the seat, not wanting to ask her to repeat herself. He picks another topic. 

“How was your day?” Rickon cuts himself off before he can call her _honey_. It’s definitely out of line to be using terms of endearment for her. She had a perfectly valid reason for dumping him, and Rickon had to admit that even he wasn’t happy with how he was back then. The question sounds forced, though, and Rickon cringes at himself when the response from Shireen is dead silence.

Rickon chances a glance back to him phone, reaching out to wake up the screen. He swears loudly when he sees that the call ended. There’s no time to do the math and figure out _when_ the call ended, so Rickon speeds up.

It’s late enough that the bar is almost empty when Rickon pulls up. He parks easily, almost wanting to jump out of the car. Shaggydog nearly does, but Rickon soothes him into staying in the car with a window fully rolled down. Striding quickly, Rickon sneaks in through the mass of people leaving. He knows the bar well enough to find the phone booth quickly, but he swears when it’s empty.

Looking around, Rickon scans the passing bodies in a rush, seeking out any sign of familiarity. He sees a girl slumped over the counter of the bar. There’s a glass held loosely in her hand, and Rickon feels his stomach drop when she turns. A man stands behind her, and he digs his hands into her hair to pull it behind her shoulders. The girl looks up, and Rickon can see the familiar scars patterned up and down the left side of her face.

Rickon is fuming, and he positively marches to the bar. Without any effort to be gentle, Rickon grabs the man by the shoulder, shoving him away from Shireen. He stares down the man, giving him a glare so fierce that the man actually staggers back a few paces and falls on his ass.

Now, he takes the time to be careful. He places a hand flat on Shireen’s back and uses his other to pull the empty shot glass out of her hands. “I think you’re done for tonight, Shir,” he says. “How about I take you home?”

“I’m not supposta go home with anyone,” she says, resting her head on the table. She blinks over to him, and there’s a good moment of confusion before she smiles. “Ric?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, giving her a smile in return. “You wanna go home?”

Shireen nods weakly, leaning in his direction. Sighing, Rickon helps her off the stool. He slides an arm across her waist, holding up a majority of her weight. She makes small sound in the back of her throat, and he briefly considers carrying her.

“What were you drinking?” he asks, hoping to keep her awake until she gets to the car.

“Burrrr-bon,” Shireen trills out. She giggles again, pressing her head into his arm. She hiccoughs again, spurring louder giggles than before. “Said I couldna do sex shots, so I showed ’em.”

Rickon furrows his brow, glancing down at her. “Sex shots?” he questions. “I’ve never heard of sex sh—oh! Six? Do you mean six?”

“ _Six_!” Shireen exclaims, standing up straight. “It’s six! You’re so good at numbers.”

Shaking his head, Rickon opens the car door, helping Shireen into the passenger seat. She slumps down immediately, and Rickon leans over her to buckle her seatbelt. After making sure her hands and feet are tucked in, he closes the door before crossing around to his own seat. He gets in and automatically goes to pet Shaggydog, making sure that his dog is still calm. Shaggydog noses at his hand before placing his head over the center console.

Starting up the car, Rickon looks over to find Shireen looking mostly asleep. He briefly wonders if she still lives in her old apartment complex before deciding that she might be safer at his place. He can brave the couch for a night.

“Did I wake you up?” Shireen mumbles. Rickon glances over to her, seeing the flicker of streetlights reflecting off her eyes. She blinks over to him, a small smile on her face. “I bet I didn’t,” she continues on. “You used to get to bed after three most nights.”

“No, I, uh, I was definitely asleep,” Rickon replies. Without looking, he knows that she doesn’t believe him in the slightest. Their months of living together after graduation were hell when he got bogged down in work and didn’t know how to manage his time. “I gave myself, like, a bedtime and shit.”

Shireen giggles. She leans to his side and is greeted with the wet nose of Shaggydog. A tiny yelp leaves her, and her eyes go wide until she sees the dog. “Shaggy?”

“Oh, yeah.” Rickon changes lanes, seeing Shireen petting his dog happily. He clears his throat for courage, thinking that Shireen at least deserves to know this. “I really got my shit together. Bran even agreed to let me have my dog back. We go on walks daily. I don’t work overtime. I actually learned how to cook. It’s… a lot better.”

There’s a long silence, and Rickon finds Shireen leaning onto Shaggydog’s neck. She looks comfortable curled up there, and he can’t even be peeved that she fell asleep. He definitely needs to get some water into her, though.

“Why weren’t you like this before?”

Rickon is startled at her question. He wonders what she’s really asking, if she remembers how much she ranted at him before walking out of his apartment. His chest feels tight, and Rickon lets a few more streetlights go by. He doesn’t want to be hopeful, but she called _him_ and remembered _his_ phone number.

“I’m like this now,” he tries, but it ignites the spark in his stomach. “Isn’t that enough?”

Shireen doesn’t respond, and Rickon can’t even blame her. He knows better than anyone how insufferable he was only a few months ago. It was bad enough that Bran took Shaggydog, claiming that he was being neglectful. He didn’t even want to remember what he had done to Shireen. Still, she had called him. He was worth _something_ to her, even if it was only to play guard dog over her while she’s wasted.

It’s enough to make him hopeful, even if hope is the last thing he needs where Shireen is concerned. He fucked up big time, and there’s no reason for her to want anything from him. When he finally parks, he finds that Shireen is completely asleep. A large huff of air leaves him, realizing that she isn’t ignoring him. She’s just sleeping. Rickon hits the steering wheel gently, gathering himself before he makes to get Shireen out of the car.

Shaggydog obediently pushes Shireen’s weight into his arms, climbing out after her when Rickon has the dead weight of his ex-girlfriend in his arms. Hefting up her weight, Rickon flicks his keys into one hand, waiting for Shaggydog to leave the car before he shoves his hip into the door to close it.

The walk up to his apartment seems longer than before. Rickon takes the stairs extremely slowly, making sure her feet don’t hit anything. At the door, there’s a longer pause while Rickon shuffles through his keys under the crook of Shireen’s knee. He lifts her higher to unlock the door, and Shaggydog runs inside at the first possible moment, opening the door for him. Rickon walks straight into his bedroom, hearing the door click shut behind him. Shireen sighs in her sleep, and Rickon carefully places her into the unmade half of his bed. With all the care he can muster, Rickon removes Shireen’s shoes, managing the clasp before pulling the heels off. He tucks her feet under blankets.

He gives her another look before leaving to pour her a glass of water and fetching aspirin. Placing both on the bedside table, Rickon digs a hand behind her neck, sitting her up and trying to gently shake her awake. She slowly blinks up at him, looking slight confused.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” she mumbles, rolling into his side.

Rickon moves his grip on her, keeping her upright. He picks up the water slowly, holding it to her mouth. “I thought you might be thirsty,” he replies.

Shireen leans forward, lifting a hand up to press over his as she drinks deeply from the glass. Not once does she pull away, downing the liquid and sighing when it’s through. “Ca’ I have more?”

“Yeah, Shir,” Rickon laughs, sitting her up against the headboard. “You just wait right here.”

Walking back into the kitchen, Rickon fills the glass halfway. He drinks it before filling it completely again, heading back to his room. Shireen has entirely curled up against his headboard, and she looks different for some reason. Rickon can’t place it until he steps around the bed, finding her dress discarded on the floor. She’s wearing one of his shirts as a nightdress. It makes him smile when he sits beside her, handing her the glass.

Shireen takes it slowly, pacing out her swallows this time. She eyes him carefully, or at least, he would think it was careful were it not for the haze of drunkenness that’s definitely still on her face. Her eyelids are drooping, and she looks like she’ll fall unconscious any minute. She finishes off the water, handing the glass back. “Are you going to stay here?”

“Well, it’s my apartment,” Rickon tells her. “I’ll take the couch.”

Shireen frowns at that, staring somewhere past him. “Can I have a goodnight kiss?” she mumbles.

That hurts even more, and Rickon can’t even consider it a possibility when she’s definitely not sober. He gives her a weak smile, easing her back down on the bed. Grabbing onto the blankets, he tucks her in. “Not tonight,” he says. “Maybe next time.”

“When’s next time?” Shireen murmurs back, and Rickon knows that it’s supposed to be a tease at him.

Rickon’s smile widens, and he carefully resigns himself to their full, firm separation. “How about you tell me tomorrow?” he suggests. “But only if you remember to ask.”

Nodding slowly, Shireen sinks deeper and deeper into sleep. It doesn’t take long before she’s completely limp, dead weight once again in the spot where she used to sleep every night. Rickon’s hearts pounds harder, and he tries to master himself, knowing that none of this really means anything with her so far gone. Still, he fills up the glass yet again and leaves it beside her. Then, he calls Shaggydog over.

“You stay with her tonight, okay?” he tells his dog. “Don’t scare her.”

Shaggydog licks his chin once before padding lightly in the room. Rickon watches his dog climb onto the bed and curl up right beside her feet. Smiling at the familiar sight, Rickon prepares for bed himself, thinking that the couch will never compare to the offer of her company. Still, he’s ready for whatever this is to end, for the jarring reality of everything to come crashing back down on him as soon as Shireen wakes up tomorrow.

\--

Rickon does not sleep well. The couch, while perfectly acceptable for everything else, offers little comfort for sleeping, particularly when he forgot blankets, his pajamas, and a proper pillow. Instead of forcing himself back to sleep, Rickon simply wakes up for the day. He briefly wonders if Shaggy will still be up at half past six for his walk, but the thought leaves him immediately. If anything, Shaggydog was more smitten with Shireen than he was, and his dog is probably happily spending every moment possible with her.

Rickon wishes it could be him.

The surprise call last night had changed something between them again. Rickon had thoroughly resigned himself to a life without Shireen, but he could never convince himself that he hadn’t been massively, ridiculously in love with her the entire time. While he came to terms with her decision to leave him, Rickon never expected her to fall right back into his lap.

Nothing can prevent his extreme trepidation to having her back in his apartment, though. Rickon is entirely certain that she wasn’t in her right mind when she called last night, but it doesn’t change the fact that she did. It’s far too much for Rickon to try to make sense of, especially when Shireen probably doesn’t remember any of it.

With a heavy sigh, Rickon drags himself into the kitchen. Maybe, he can make her breakfast to make up for any possible misunderstanding she might have at ending up at his apartment. He digs out ingredients, trying to remember what time normal people have breakfast. After waiting a full twenty minutes, Rickon starts cooking. He fries bacon, letting the smell wake him up more than anything. Halfway through, he remembers how much Shireen enjoys coffee, so he starts up a pot.

It’s during another small reprieve from flipping bacon that he hears the small scream. It’s soft and quickly muffled, but it definitely happened. As fast as he can, Rickon removes the bacon from the pan before rushing to his room before debating with himself about whether or not he should knock. After a moment, he puts for the softest effort he can.

Shaggydog barks before a small _yes?_ hits his ears. Slowly, Rickon opens the door.

“Shir?” Rickon calls.

Shaggydog responds again with a muffled bark. When Rickon finally catches sight of them, Shaggydog is turned entirely toward Shireen on the bed, and she is petting his dog gently. Other than the attention she gives Shaggydog, Shireen looks awful. Her hair is knotted and sticking up in odd directions, her eyelids are still drooping, and she looks ready to use Shaggydog as a pillow again. The glass next to the bed is empty, though.

“Hey, Ric,” she replies, glancing up at him.

“How are you feeling?” Rickon asks. He takes a step forward, ready to walk around to her side before he thinks better of it. The shirt she’s in has ridden up and were it not for the blanket, her legs would be entirely bare.

Shireen groans, placing her head on Shaggydog’s side. “Not so great,” she says. “What happened last night?”

Rickon feigns thought, sitting on the far edge of the bed. “From what I could decipher, it was about six shots of bourbon, and almost getting kicked out of a bar.”

Her groan gets louder, and Rickon resists laughing. Somehow, she isn’t entirely mad to see him, and he’s thankful for that alone.

“You called me to pick you up,” he finishes. “Some douchebag was trying to hit on you. It was disgusting.”

Her mouth curls up in a smile, and she sits up slightly to look at him. “Did you punch him?”

Rickon rolls his eyes. “I swear, that’s all you want from me,” he says. “No, I didn’t punch him.”

“That sucks,” Shireen mumbles out. “You look sexy punching people. Can I have some more water?”

Fighting his natural reaction to her flippant comment, Rickon agrees. He takes the glass from her outstretched hand and immediately wants to throw it against something. Controlling himself, Rickon makes for the kitchen, drinking a glass of water himself and frying an egg for Shireen before returning to her with food and a drink.

Her face lights up at the food, and she moves back against the headboard, grinning at him. Without many more words, Shireen takes the food, eating fairly quickly and emptying the glass again. Rickon watches her as little as her can, even though he wants nothing more than to stare at her for however long she stays. She eats fast enough that they’re in silence soon, and Shireen just sips at her cup of water.

“So how have you been?” she asks. “No work today?”

“It’s a Sunday,” Rickon says, by way of explanation.

Shireen snorts, putting down the cup. “That never stopped you before,” she mumbles.

“Yeah, I know,” Rickon says, trying to brush past it. “It was a really shitty time for everyone, I’m sure.”

Nodding, Shireen leans back further in his bed. Her knees fold up to her chest, and she curls up in the blanket. The compounding factors make everything feel so much worse. Rickon tries to work through the awkward, though.

“So how did you remember my phone number through six shots of bourbon?” he asks.

Shireen groans, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I wanted to call you every day after it happened,” she mumbles. “I just… I couldn’t. You know that. Gods, I’m gonna sound like such a jerk… I deleted your number from my phone.”

“You did?” Rickon asks. He’s proud of her for that accomplishment alone, having never managed to do it himself.

“And you actually sound impressed,” she muses. “Well, don’t be. I kept all the messages, and… I might have spent way too long just reading through them. But then, your name wasn’t there, just your number. I guess it stuck.”

“It’s still kind of impressive,” he said, more just living off the idea of her remembering it perfectly. “But, um, I can take you home if you want.”

Shireen blinks up at him. “What if I don’t want to go?”

Rickon’s heart stops, but he shakes the feeling. There’s no way that this isn’t artificial, and he can’t trust anything she says right now. Not unless she’s stone cold sober.

“I… I can drive you home,” he says firmly. “This… this isn’t supposed happen like this. It isn’t even supposed to happen.”

“But it _did_ ,” Shireen says. She gives him a hard look. “It _happened_ : I called, and you answered, and you came.”

Rickon shakes his head, trying to make her see the truth of this, what this really means. “No, Shireen,” he says. “It’s not—I can’t just pretend that everything’s fine now, alright? I was an asshole. I can’t just have you now because you were drunk. _I_ don’t deserve this. _I’m_ not good enough to just have this happen, okay?”

Shireen is silent for a full minute, just staring at him as tears build and dissipate in her eyes. She swallows hard. “What about my kiss?”

Slumping down, Rickon feels the defeat crushing him. She definitely wasn’t supposed to remember _that_. Rickon can’t deal with any of that in addition to everything else that happened. “Shireen…”

“I know,” she mumbles. Slowly, Shireen climbs out of the bed. Without asking, she digs through his drawers, finding another shirt to wear as a dress. She changes where she is, and Rickon leaves to go mope in the kitchen.

He gathers up his keys, waiting for Shireen to reappear. She does, carrying a bundle of her things from last night. Rickon sighs, leading her out to his car, and letting her in. The drive passes in silence. Rickon doesn’t even need directions because he memorized the route to her house a long time ago. It’s with a heavy heart that he stops his car to let her out. He hangs his head, just waiting for to leave again. It’s the second act of finality that he never wanted. 

The soft touch of her fingertips hits his chin, and before Rickon can turn, Shireen kisses his cheek. Rickon’s mouth drops open, and he gives her a dumbfounded look.

“I miss you,” she tells him, finally letting herself out of his car. “Maybe I’ll call you when I’m sober.”

Rickon nods, giving her a small wave. “We’ll see,” he says. “I can work with that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the people who will probably never read it:
> 
> An apology

Stuffing his laptop into the bag, Rickon straightens up the many stacks of papers on his desk before finally leaving the office. The sun is pounding against the windows and the heat would be stifling if it wasn’t for central air conditioning. However, Rickon is more than excited to walk into it and head home to his dog. He had already promised Shaggydog that he would find him a dog park with working sprinklers this afternoon or drive somewhere significantly colder for the weekend.

In the elevator down, Rickon digs out his keys and loosens his tie. He doesn’t really want to be in his work clothes any longer than necessary, and he definitely doesn’t want to drive home in completely stifling weather. The high-pitched _DING_ of the elevator at the bottom floor is almost as glorious as knowing he is off the clock. He is a mere twenty feet from the door, past the receptionist’s deck, when he is called.

“Rickon?”

Rickon rolls his eyes, fixing his face before turning back to Jeyne. She’s holding a hand over the receiver of a phone and giving him a small smile. She holds out the phone just slightly.

“There’s someone on the phone for you,” Jeyne tells him.

Stopping his natural reaction, Rickon gives her a small smirk. “Actually,” he starts slowly, “I’m not here right now. Definitely already out the door.”

Jeyne giggles lightly, giving him a wink. “Of course,” she says. “Have a nice weekend.”

“Thanks, Jeyne,” Rickon replies. “You, too.” Without sparing another moment, Rickon turns back to the door. He loosens his tie as he goes, pulling at a few of the buttons on his shirt. By the time he’s at his car, Rickon has the sleeves of his shirt scrunched up past his elbows, has his tie completely removed, and has several buttons of his shirt undone. His places his bag on the passenger’s seat, automatically turning up the air conditioner before starting his drive home.

As soon as he enters his apartment, a few things happen at once. Shaggydog runs up to him, barking loudly, his phone starts ringing, and he nearly crashes into his door with the onslaught of his senses.

“Oh, fuck,” Rickon breathes out. He grabs onto the edge of the door and steadies himself. Then, he shoos Shaggydog away before seeing to his phone. He has two missed calls from his brother and a text message in all caps from one of his sisters. Sighing heavily, Rickon tosses the phone on his bed, thinking that he’s not dealing with his family while he’s still dressed in work clothes.

He manages to get out of his shirt before his phone rings again. Tossing the loose article into a laundry basket, Rickon works at his pants one-handed while he answers the call from his brother.

“Robb?” he says by way of greeting.

“Okay, so it’s fucking hot and Grey Wind’s been nagging at me all day, so we’re having a pool party at mom and dad’s, what do you think?” his brother says all at once.

Rickon sighs as he fights off his pants, kicking off the shoes he forgot about. “Dude, I _literally_ just got off work and it’s a three-hour drive,” he replies. “It’ll be nighttime by the time I get there.”

“Then we’ll party tomorrow,” Robb says. “Come on. Dad’s breaking out the barbecue, Mom’s making slushies… We can throw Arya in the pool again…”

Rickon laughs. “How about tomorrow then?” he compromises. “Shaggy will murder me if I put him in a closed up car right now.”

Robb gives him an exasperated sigh. “I guess…” he groans out. “But you’re missing out on the slumber party!”

Robb hangs up on the call, leaving Rickon looking massively confused. He tosses his phone to the side, before putting on more comfortable clothes. His phone rings again. A simple glance tells him that it’s Robb again, so he answers as he stuffs his wallet into his pocket.

“Yes, Robb?”

“Sansa says you have to make her macaroni if you’re coming late,” Robb says quickly.

“Fucking hells,” Rickon breathes out. “I’m not making macaroni! It’s fucking hot.”

“Tell that to Sansa,” Robb says back, hanging up again.

Rickon shakes his head, throwing his phone down. He sighs loudly, wondering if it’ll be cool enough after night falls to make macaroni just to make his sister happy. A stop at the store would be in order, though, especially if he wants to come through on this.

He phone rings again. Another glance tells him that it’s Robb. Again.

“What?” Rickon nearly shouts into the phone.

“Arya has declared a Nerf gun fight,” he says. “So you better bring ammunition!”

Robb hangs up before he can even respond. Rickon nearly throws his phone out the window. Every family gathering was always like this. Rickon always had to deal with his family just being crazy and figuring out everything that should happen well before he was part of the conversation. He’s nearly out the door with Shaggydog on a leash before his phone rings again.

Rickon doesn’t even check the phone, just answering with a sharp, “What the fuck do you want, Robb?”

“Um.” The responding voice is much softer and more sheepish than his brother’s, and Rickon pulls his phone away just the smallest amount. He can’t check who called before they speak again. “Rickon?”

Pressing his phone back to his ear, Rickon frowns. “Yeah?”

“Oh, hey,” she says. Rickon knows the voice now, and he feels awful for snapping so loudly. He simply bites his tongue as she goes on. “Um, it’s Shireen.”

“Yeah,” Rickon breathes out. “Fuck… Yeah, sorry. Robb’s been calling me non-stop since I got home, and I just—yeah…”

To his surprise, Shireen giggles. “That’s okay,” she says gently. “I just… you said it’d be okay if I called you sometime, and I thought that maybe I should do that. But if you’re busy, I totally understand.”

“No, no, no,” Rickon says quickly. “I’m not _busy_. I was just going to take Shaggy on a walk, try to find someplace cool for him to stay…”

“Oh,” Shireen breathes out. “Well, um, could I join you, maybe? I just… it’d be nice if we could talk about things since, you know…”

“Yeah, sure,” Rickon replies. “Just… you know, going to the park.”

“Okay,” Shireen whispers. “I’ll find you.”

“Alright,” Rickon says. His voice is also low, and he doesn’t his best not to clear his throat.

“I’ll see you later, then,” Shireen says softly.

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” he says. Rickon can’t take the phone from his ear though. He listens to her steady breathing for a long time before the he finally pulls his phone down and ends the call. Holding tighter to the leash, Rickon tugs Shaggydog out the door. Even though the sun is still out, something about the day feels significantly cooler to Rickon.

Shaggydog walks obediently at his side all the way to the park. Rickon is entirely lost in thought the entire way. He doesn’t even notice when Shaggydog stops in a shaded area and goes down on the grass. Standing near Shaggydog, Rickon stares out at the park before he realizes that he’s already reached his destination. Sighing deeply, Rickon sits down near his dog, enjoying the cool breeze of the late afternoon.

His nerves are buzzing, though. Whatever the situation may be, Rickon can’t shake how backwards the entire situation still seems to him. As much as he hates having Shireen out of his life, he also hates the circumstances that brought them together again. None of it feels like it should be happening, but he has to admit that his stomach is fluttering at the idea of seeing her again. Resting back on his elbows, Rickon tries to stop himself from imagining that whatever is between them will just return to what was normal.

“Rickon?”

He snaps up, seeing Shireen holding down the skirt of her dress where the wind threatens to make it fly. Seeing her from this angle does things to his mind, though, so he stands. He awkwardly offers Shireen a hand to shake, but she pulls him into a light hug that does not help his nerves. Rickon pulls away before his hands start to wander of their own accord and offers her a seat next to him.

Shireen sits daintily, giving him a smile before reaching out to pet Shaggydog. The massive black dog moves over to place his head right next to her leg. She rubs between his ears before turning back to Rickon.

“Hey,” he says. He’s been staring at her all the while, watching her eyes light up and strands of her hair get pulled around by the wind. Everything about it feels surreal, and he can’t stop looking at her.

The responding smile is definitely worth it. Shireen tucks her chin into a hand as she catches a few wisps of her hair and tucks them behind her ear. “Hi,” she says. “How are you?”

“Better,” Rickon replies. He wants nothing more to pull her closer and dig his fingers into her hair again. Her look is only slightly confused before he says, “I missed you.”

Shireen bites her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I missed you, too,” she says. She huffs out a small breath. “Longer, I think.”

Rickon shakes his head, falling back completely. “I really don’t deserve this.”

A moment passes in silence. Then, Shireen asks, “What about me?”

Rickon sits up, giving her a confused look. “What do—?”

“Do I deserve this?” she asks, fixing him with a look.

Sighing, Rickon nearly falls back again. “You deserve better, Shireen,” he says. “You’ve always deserved better than me.”

The sun dips lower in the sky now, and while the heat will never be gone—not while Shireen is sitting next to him—Rickon thinks he can finally start to feel cold. It’s what he _should_ feel, after all. After neglecting everything in his personal life to prove himself at work, after forcing everyone to cut him out completely because he wasn’t worth it, he has no right to be happy. He almost thinks that he’s forced Shireen into silence, but when he looks back, she’s staring at him.

Slowly, almost deliberately, she licks her lips. “I don’t want someone _better_ ,” she says. Even without the help of her fingers, Rickon can feel the air quotes around her words. “I’ve always just wanted you.”

“That _was_ me, Shireen,” Rickon says, gentle as he can be when he can feel the grief from what happened building up in him. “It was me. I was that person. It’s still me. It’s still there. I can’t just pretend that it didn’t happen.”

Shireen gives him a weak smile. “You don’t have to punish yourself for it,” she says. “I did what I did entirely for myself, and I just want to give you something in return.”

Rickon nearly glares at her. “I don’t want your pity,” he says. “Or empty apologies. Or anything that suddenly exists because you know this. It won’t _mean_ anything anymore.”

To his surprise, Shireen scoffs. “You think I’m going to apologize?” she asks, eyebrows shooting up. “The only damn apology you deserve is maybe one for the time I forgot you’re allergic to shellfish.”

Rickon snorts, the memory flooding his system. Shireen had planned a nice date for them that he sat through without eating at all before he reminded her of his food allergy while she had taken him to a seafood restaurant. He shoots a grin over to her. “I honestly thought you were joking until you were legitimately concerned about me not eating.”

“Lobster dinners are supposed to be the fancy ones!” Shireen shoots back. “And we never had fancy dinners.”

“Really?” he asked. “You don’t think all those steakhouses were fancy? Or the time I took you to see an orchestra?”

The smile returns to her face before it falls. “But that was all so early on,” she said. “It just felt like… you forgot.”

Rickon reaches for her hand, loosely placing his over hers. He sucks in a deep breath before facing her again. “But it’s not… I’m not different,” he tells her.

“You’re not at work right now,” Shireen points out.

“No,” Rickon agrees slowly. “But it’s because of more rules for myself. Just things that I’ve changed because I felt like a terrible person.”

“You were a terrible person,” Shireen confirms.

Rickon shakes his head again. “Then why would you ever want me after what I did to you?”

She shrugs lightly, turning her face into the wind. Her hair flies back toward him and Rickon resists the urge to tame it for her. Her sigh brings him back, though. “Maybe… it’s because I always knew it was for me,” she says. “That you were just trying to make things better the only way you knew how.”

“That doesn’t excuse any of it,” Rickon says sharply.

Shireen grasps onto his hand, pulling him closer to her. “I’m not excusing anything,” she tells him. “I’m acknowledging it. It happened. It’s done. Okay? And… even with everything, I still want to do this. I want… I want to give us a chance again.”

“What, like dating again?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Just… I want to be with you again.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Rickon mumbles back, uncertain if he can watch her walk away from him again. The thought makes tears well up in his eyes, and he chokes on a breath. “What if you leave again? What if I can’t do this? I don’t—I can’t live knowing I did that again.”

Shireen places a hand under his jaw, lifting him up to face her. With a warm smile, she rubs away his tears. “Do you still love me?”

“I could never stop.”

“Good,” she says. With a firm hand, Shireen pushes him flat on his back. Then, she curls up at his side, resting her head over his heart. Squirming about some, she tucks her skirt down and opens an eye at him. “Hold me.”

“Yeah, okay.” Rickon places a hand on her back, lifting his other to hold the back of her head. Shifting about, Rickon tries to keep his mind straight, but the conversation plays back in his mind, and he knows where they have to stand now. Being swept by the realization of it, Rickon pulls her into his chest, hugging her as tight as he can.

Shireen starts shaking in his arms, and she looks up with tears in her eyes. He doesn’t give her a chance to respond. Rickon tucks her back into his chest, kissing the crown of her head. Her arms go as far around him as she can reach, pulling him tighter to her.

They stay in the park until long after the sun has set, and the only sign that they need to leave is that Shireen starts to shiver from the cold. Rickon pulls her away gently, moving them both up to a sitting position. Shireen does her best to fix her hair, combing it down with her fingers. After a moment, Rickon stands. He calls up Shaggydog and offers a hand to Shireen.

“Do you maybe want to go on a date, then?” he asks. His voice feels raw, and he can’t help thinking that he must have been crying a lot more than he thought he was.

Shireen nods. “I’d love to,” she says, stepping into him again.

Instinctively, Rickon opens his arms up for her, returning the hug. It stretches out. The sting of tears returns, but Rickon doesn’t let go. Shireen presses her forehead flat against his chest before looking up at him, her eyes red.

“Actually,” she says slowly. “Considering that we’ve done the dating thing before, can we just… shift back?”

Rickon shakes his head. “It’s not the same anymore, Shir,” he tells her. “I mean, I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can,” Shireen says sharply. She squeezes him tighter, pressing the scars of her cheek into his chest. “We both know what happened, how we feel, how the other feels… it’s done. Now, I just want to move on so _something_ can come back.”

“Do you really think it’s going to be anything good?” Rickon asks.

Shireen pouts at him, drawing away again. “That depends… how long have you been thinking about kissing me?”

Rickon smiles, holding onto her waist to pull her flush against him. “Not as long as I’ve been dying to put my hands on you,” he says. “But it’s a close second.”

“So… you wouldn’t be completely opposed to letting me spend the night?” Shireen muses, a sly smile on her face.

“Promise you won’t disappear in the morning?” Rickon asks, feeling another bout of self-doubt overtaking his system.

“I promise.”

He smiles at her, reaching down to tug on Shaggydog’s leash. “Then let’s get you out of the cold,” he says, offering her an arm.

Shireen reaches past his arm for the leash, taking full control of Shaggydog. Pressing up against his side, she gives him no choice but to step away or put an arm over her shoulders. And he’ll be damned if he ever leaves her again. So Rickon draws her in close, rubbing a hand over her exposed shoulder to press some heat into her body. Shireen’s head tips toward him, and he automatically leans down to kiss her temple.

Nothing about it feels wrong. Nothing about it feels like anything happened to completely tear them apart. There was just a gap of time between them where they weren’t quite the same as they were. A gap of time that is insignificant to the _forever_ that’s waiting for them. It becomes such that Shireen leads them back to his apartment, distracted as Rickon is with staring at her and making sure she doesn’t vanish.

It’s only the forced habits from walking upstairs that make him retrieve his keys and unlock the door. Shireen frees Shaggydog right away, stepping deeper into the room. Closing the door, Rickon turns to see her smiling at everything.

“Hey, Shir,” he calls, almost solely for the satisfaction of seeing her spin toward him.

“Yeah?” she says back, stepping out of her sandals and lightly walking over to him.

Half a pace away, Rickon looks down at her. His girlfriend of many years, his ex of seven months, and his girlfriend yet again, even if he’s loved her for far longer than he’s ever admitted to anyone. His heart pounds loudly in his chest, and Rickon feels exactly the same as before: back when they first started dating and he was waiting to ask if he could kiss her for the first time. The nerves of his seventeen-year-old self come back, not because of the massive age difference between them, the feeling that what he was doing was wrong, but because if it doesn’t feel right, there’s no value to it anymore.

“Can I ask you something?” he whispers. His gaze drifts all over her face, and she is still the same: still perfect in every way.

He doesn’t know if he should wait for her response, if she means to reply at all. But the time passed is so much that he ends up asking _“Can I kiss you?”_ at the exact moment she says _“Can you kiss me?”_

They both chuckle lightly, looking away for a small moment before their eyes meet, before they use the same instant to stare at the other’s mouth, before the magnetism between them jumps back to life and they move toward each other with the ease of before. And it is effortless. They match up perfectly, with swallowed laughter that turns into shaking sighs.

Her hand slides up to his shoulder, and her fingers stretch up to lightly trace his hair line. Rickon’s hands move to her hips, and he steps into her, dropping his jaw to let the hot air of her mouth mix with his. Then, they move as one: Shireen throws her arms around his neck at the same time he lifts her up into his arms. Shireen hooks her legs about his waist, pressing up on his shoulders and sliding her tongue into his mouth.

Rickon moans loudly, his hand drifts up her spine as he returns the kiss in full. He grips hard into her hip, pulling her closer and keeping her up. Rickon can feel his heart pounding in his ears, but he also feels her heart beating against his chest, and that is the pulse he latches onto: the rapid beat that proves she is real, she is here, and she is his.

Their kiss never slows, never fades. It simply stops abruptly when they are both gasping for air, weak from the strain of holding themselves and each other up. Breathing hard into each other’s mouth, they never part. Their lips continuously press together, even with the both of them struggling to catch their breath. Rickon blinks up at Shireen, watching her half-lidded eyes flick up to his.

“So I have two requests,” Shireen breathes out.

“Anything,” Rickon promises. Regardless of whatever she might ask, he will go to the ends of the earth to keep this woman in his arms.

“One,” Shireen starts slowly, stroking over his ears, “you give me a shirt to sleep in.”

“Absolutely,” he says, moving over to kiss the corner of her mouth. “Whichever one you want.”

Shireen smiles, kissing whichever part of his face is the closest. “And two… you keep kissing me until we fall asleep.”

Laughing, Rickon pulls Shireen down to kiss her full on the mouth. “You say that like I’m ever going to let you go.”

 

 

Sunlight has been threatening to break into Rickon’s bedroom for hours now. However, Rickon is intent on letting nothing break the peace of lying in bed with Shireen tucked in his arms. He’s been awake for a while now, just being comforted by the feeling of Shireen’s steady breathing. Nothing beyond kissing happened last night, but he will float on the euphoria of it for the rest of his life.

He’s far enough away from whatever is supposed to be happening that he completely forgets about the rest of the world until his phone sharply reminds him that other people are already active. Twisting onto his back, Rickon silences his phone before answering his brother’s call.

“Yes, Bran?” he whispers, scared to break the stillness of his room.

“What the fuck, man?” Bran responds. “Robb said you were coming with mac and cheese. What gives?”

“I’m busy,” Rickon mumbles out. “Maybe next time.”

“Dude, we had plans!” Bran calls loudly, making Rickon pull the phone far away from his ear.

Rickon groans, not ready to fight with his brother so early in the morning, not when he’s been the happiest he’s been in a year. Squirming against his side makes him turn to see Shireen. She’s bleary eyed, but she taps his chest and holds out a hand for his phone. Rickon hands it over.

“Brandon,” she says calmly, getting silence from the line. After a moment, Rickon hears Bran’s soft response. Shireen takes a deep breath and says, “Your brother and I are very busy, and I would appreciate if you would convince your family to just leave him alone today. _He’s mine_.”

Rickon smiles down at Shireen, even happier to see the hard set of her mouth when she’s aggressively claiming him. Shireen doesn’t even give Bran a chance to say anything in return. She just ends the call, silences his phone, and places it on the bedside table. Then, Shireen turns into his side, burying her nose into his ribs.

Rickon curls up around her, kissing the top of her head. “I love you,” he mumbles. “And I’ve always been yours.”

“I love you,” Shireen tells him. She kisses his side before stretching up to find his throat, his jaw, anywhere she can reach.

Rolling onto his side, Rickon slides down to meet Shireen. He kisses her soundly, pulling her as close as he can, relishing in the fact that this will be the rest of his life.


End file.
